Iasar Hawke tale: Ostagar
by EarthBorn93
Summary: Hawke was at Ostagar. This is the story of the events before, during, and immediately after the tragic battle that changed it all. A story told before the beginning of his story.


**Iasar Hawke tale: Ostagar**

Iasar Hawke flinched as a darkspawn's teeth snapped shut only inches from his face. In retaliation he thrust his sword to the creatures face, tracing a dark line of blood across its face. Hawke then adjusted the position of his sword, bringing the edge of his weapon against the darkspawn's throat. With the tight press of bodies all around, there was no room to land a proper blow. Instead Hawke was forced to resort to a sort of sawing motion to cut into the corrupt flesh of his opponent, sizzling and bubbling blood squirting from the slowly deepening wound he was making. With the darkspawn's own weapon pinned by Hawke's shield, it could not retaliate, but that did not stop it from struggling. It scrabbled against his shield, trying to wrench it away, but could not manage it. It strained its neck and tried to pull away, but the press of its fellows behind did not let it do so. Eventually Hawke cut deep enough, the darkspawn became limp and crumpled to the ground before his feet. As soon as it fell another took its place, swinging an axe at him. Hawke raised his shield in time, the jarring impact sending wood splinters flying as he blocked the blow. The darkspawn struck him twice more, driving at his shield like woodcutter. Then Hawke spied an opening and thrust his sword into the creature's belly, his blade coming out through its back. The monster collapsed against his sword and he could feel its blood flow onto his arm. He prayed none of it would find its way past his armor to touch his skin. He had seen the results, the terrible pain that inevitably led to either death or insanity, heard the rumors that the survivors were driven to serve the darkspawn, to toil underground or throw themselves to die on the blades of their former comrades. He had had plenty of time to see such things, seeing as this was his second battle since coming here, to the ancient fortress of Ostagar, where the great battle against the Fifth Blight was happening.

When word had reached Lothering that the king was assembling an army at the ruins of Ostagar, his brother was quick to sign up, confident of his abilities and eager to prove himself. Iasar had joined up as well, although he had been more motivated by the need to keep his family safe: his brother safe by making sure he didn't die on the battlefield, the rest of his family safe by helping to stop the horde here so the darkspawn wouldn't reach Lothering. And so they had left their home behind along with others from their village, led on by some of the more full-time soldiers from Lothering. As they travelled to Ostagar, even more had joined up from other villages until there had been almost two hundred of them. When they had finally arrived at their destination they had quickly taken up their names, formed them into the 6th Company and presented themselves to Captain Hamilton, a gruff war veteran with a missing eye and a huge beard. As Fereldans, people who their Lord could call to arms at any time, all of them that were here had at least rudimentary understanding of fighting, so they had at least that in their favor. Despite that their company was not a standardized military formation by any account. The Captain had taken one look at their mismatched sets of equipment, grumbled to his beard (something Hawke had learned he always did when he disapproved of something) and set about to improve the situation as much as he was able. It was agreed that in a full scale battle sword and shield fighters like Hawke would serve on the front ranks, while other close combat fighters would hold the rear, ready to plug any holes that opened in their line, while those carrying bows and crossbows joined similarly armed soldiers on the palisades and the stone walls above them.

Hawke had had his first combat experience with the darkspawn on a patrol of the wilds. Two of his comrades had died in the fighting, and two more had been lost to the darkspawn corruption afterwards. That one taste of fighting the enemy had all but convinced him that he would not live through the first major battle he was to take part in. One battle had already occurred at Ostagar before Hawke had gotten there, and the stories told of that fight had done nothing to ease his concerns. And yet somehow through the skin of his teeth he had survived, though he could not be entirely sure how he had managed to accomplish this. His memories of the battle were hazy at best, a reddish mess of monstrous, snarling faces and equally horrid open wounds. The end of the battle was like coming out of a fever dream, Hawke suddenly once again properly aware of the world around him. After the battle had ended, the scouts had soon confirmed that the surviving darkspawn had regrouped and were amassing for another push. And so they had returned to their patrols and daily routines for a time, until the next day of battle had arrived and Hawke had found himself holding the line once again against an even greater number of darkspawn.

The Fereldan army's strategy for this battle was a repeat of the first one. A force of them held the narrow valley that allowed the passage north to Ferelden, sitting like a cork in a bottle just under the bridge that connected the two massive halves of the fortress together, while another force was preparing to flank the enemy. Squeezed together by the walls of the valley the darkspawn could not take full advantage of their numbers, nor could the creatures in front retreat because of the press of their fellows at their back. While the Fereldan infantry held the ground against the darkspawn tide, archers on the wooden fortifications and the walls of the fortress itself poured continuous fire to the ranks of the enemy, bringing welcome casualties. Bolt throwers brought down enormous ogres as they sought to lumber into contact with the human line. Now and then a blast of fire, ice or lightning appeared from nowhere, scything down many darkspawn; a display of the arcane powers of the mages accompanying the army. And still the darkspawn came on, an endless tide that refused to relent no matter what was thrown against it…

Hawke's thoughts were interrupted by a huge column of swirling fire erupting at the center of the darkspawn line, setting fire to scores of the creatures at once. Then the pillar of flame began to move across the battlefield, burning through hundreds of darkspawn before finally fading away. The pressure on the human line lessened as a result of the spell, it became easier to move around. Hawke used the resulting freedom to cut down another opponent, thanking the powers of mages in his mind. Unfortunately the enemy had mages of their own, as became apparent when one of the creatures raised a crooked staff and a greenish mist exploded to Hawke's left, accompanied by dying screams of Fereldans. A section of the defensive line literally dissolved, flesh and armor melted by a potent acid.

"Maker's balls!" Hawke cursed as darkspawn began pouring into the opening the acid had burned in their line. Distracted as he was by the developments around him he didn't see his next opponent until it was almost upon him. He raised his shield and the monster barreled into him, knocking Hawke back against the shields of his comrades before sliding to the ground. Suddenly Hawke found himself in a forest of legs, the suffocating pressure of bodies all around. Almost unable to move, it was all Hawke could do to protect himself with his shield from moving feet and blade strokes. A leg that looked to belong to a darkspawn came near him, and he thrust his sword through the calf, the flesh quivering from the tension as the leg's owner hissed in pain before collapsing to the ground to be trampled by the uncaring feet of its fellows. Hawke used the momentary opening to pull himself into a clumsy crouching position. Then the next darkspawn was on him, striking his shield with a mace. This one got Hawke's blade through its stomach, collapsing on top of the first darkspawn. Just as Hawke managed to get back up yet another darkspawn struck at his head, its sword impacting his leather helmet with a loud clack. In retaliation Hawke rammed the pommel of his sword into the darkspawn's teeth, knocking off several of them. Then he swung at the darkspawn with a mighty vertical swing, damn near splitting the monsters head in half, shouting his defiance as he did. It too joined the pile at his feet, which Hawke realized had grown so high that the next darkspawn was having some trouble walking over it to attack him. All around him these awful piles were slowly growing larger and larger, consisting of dead darkspawn and the occasional human fallen. And still the darkspawn refused to relent, pushing against the human line with no concern for their own safety. From the corner of his eye he could see a darkspawn alpha reach into the shield line and pull out one unlucky soldier, tossing him over its shoulder onto the darkspawn ranks behind him to be torn apart, then hacking into the resulting opening, killing several defenders before being cut down in return.

Hawke began to feel the exhaustion tugging at his limbs and the despair starting to settle in his heart. These monsters were an endless tide that seemingly could not be stemmed no matter what they did. How long could they stand before the horde swallowed them? How long could **he** stand before he was overwhelmed and killed like the others? Yet he knew he could not, would not give up. Doing his best to turn his despair into a grim determination to fight on as long as he was able, he steeled himself against his next opponent.

Just at that very moment there was a commotion in the darkspawn horde, the bulk of them breaking off and heading elsewhere, with only a few remaining there to fight them. Briefly Hawke was confused, unsure of what was happening. Then he saw them. From the woods on the right they emerged, shouting warcries as they charged into the enemy ranks. Some were in uniforms of white and blue cloth and gleaming silverite armor, others were dressed in mismatched sets of armor from various origin, brandishing almost every type of weapon imaginable. A military commander might have thought them an undisciplined rabble, but he would have been wrong, oh so very wrong. They numbered less than two dozen, but the darkspawn melted away before them like butter in a fire, each one of them slaughtering their way through dozens of monsters, seemingly effortlessly. With their arrival the hearts of the fereldans were once again filled with hope, and they redoubled their efforts to drive the darkspawn back.

The Grey Wardens had come at last.

At their heels charged the foot knights of the king with their Mabari hounds at their side and soldiers with the dragon of the Gwaren Teyrnir on their shields. The second human force was rapidly carving a hole through the darkspawn, moving to cleave the horde in two. It didn't take long for the darkspawn horde to begin breaking, the creatures heading out of the pass to avoid the trap they were getting caught in, while those in the open were holding for the moment. With the pressure against their line gone the, pass defenders charged forward, running down enemies. Hawke was with them, slicing open the back of a darkspawn as he ran. Moments later the flanking force broke through the enemy, blocking the entrance to the pass, cutting off the darkspawn within from retreat. Apparently realizing the situation that had happened, the main force of darkspawn broke off and retreated, leaving the ones still trapped to be slaughtered. Arrows and bolts and spells continued to bombard the retreating darkspawn until they were out of range, slaying as many of the enemy as possible. As soon as the last trapped darkspawn fell, a huge cheer erupted from the human ranks. Hawke cheered with all the rest of them, feeling exhausted but also jubilant at their victory and continued survival.

With the pale morning light beginning to creep over the top of the trees, work began to clean up the battlefield: The wounded brought to the healers, the dead taken for burial, the darkspawn corpses dragged to pyres using long poles with hooks on the end. It was an unspoken rule of Ostagar that units that took part in frontline combat did not have to take part in cleanup duty, so Hawke found himself a tree stump nearby and sat down with a heavy sigh. He had sat there for a time when heard the voice of his captain:

"Hawke… your helmet."

Surprised, Hawke took his helmet into his hands, noticing that the rim of the helmet was almost completely torn off dangling from a small strip of the leather.

"Better have that replaced, Hawke. Go see the quartermaster, go on." Hamilton told him.

Hawke had just managed to cross the bridge that spanned the chasm to get to the side of the fortress where the quartermaster was located when he heard a woman's voice address him:

"Er… soldier, if you have a moment?"

Hawke turned to see an elf woman walk to him with brisk steps. She had short blonde hair tied behind her head with length of string and an incredible elaborate tattoo on her face. Her clothes differed from the usual styles of Ferelden, being far more… elfy. Interestingly enough she was armed with a knife and a longbow, and armored in leather armor.

"I am looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair. I already asked one soldier for direction and he gave some vague advice about the warden bringing a message to the mages and going north. In a place this big I think I need more than that."

"Alistair… I think I saw him go in the direction of the old temple." Hawke mused. "You have a message for him?"

"No, I'm a new recruit in fact. I'm to be a Warden myself. I was asked to find him because of something related to that."

"A Warden? Truly?" Iasar asked.

"Yes, truly." the elf confirmed "Yes, I know, it's not something you humans would expect from an elf, but there it is. Some time ago I would have not thought it possible myself, but a lot of weird things have been happening in my life, things I could not have expected. Now, this old temple you mentioned, where might I find it?"

"Oh, right. From here it's to your right, past the tents of the mages and the quartermaster, then right again at the top of the ramp." Hawke said, pointing the way with his finger. "If it interests you, the quartermaster might be willing to sell you supplies. Be careful though, he has… prejudices towards elves." he added.

"Well of course he does." the elf commented, rolling her eyes. "Well, thanks for the warning, and your advice. I guess I should be going."

"Uh, I never caught your name?" Hawke asked as the elf passed him.

The elf smiled. "Qwerai, of the clan of Mahariel." she said with a nod. "And you? What are you called?" she then asked.

"My name is Hawke. Iasar Hawke, though most people just call me Hawke." he replied. "You mentioned a clan… you're a Dalish then, not a city-born?"

"I would have thought the tattoos would have given it away immediately. You've heard of us then?" Qwerai said.

"Heard, yes, though never seen until now." Hawke confirmed. "I must say I'm already intrigued by what I have seen."

Qwerai smiled again. "I as well, as it happens. A bit early to judge of course, but you're not what I would have expected from a human. Well then, Hawke, good luck to you on the battlefield. Perhaps we shall meet again at a later time."

"Perhaps we will at that." Hawke said in conclusion.

With a final quick bow of her head as farewell Qwerai left. Hawke watched her walk away until he was interrupted by the familiar voice of his brother Carver:

"Brother! There you are, I have been looking all over the place for you."

"Carver!" Hawke replied in greeting. "So, how many today?" he then asked, meaning the number of darkspawn his brother had managed to kill.

"Five today. What about you?" He said in reply.

Hawke thought back to the battle for a moment. "I…uh… think I lost count around six or seven." he finally answered uncertainly."

"Damn, you still managed to beat me today. And you're still in the lead overall too." Carver said, frowning in disappointment.

"Five is not bad though, and more than it thought you might do." Hawke answered. "I mean, you were in the rear ranks. How did you get the chance to fight so many?" he hastily added when his brother gave him an offended look.

"You remember that darkspawn mage that managed to blast a hole in our line? I was helping fight there." Carver answered. "Anyway, the captain sent me to find you, he has something to tell the company."

As soon as Hawke had managed to get a new helmet from the quartermaster, the two of them made their way back to the clearing. They found the rest of the company already assembled and waiting on them, so they hurried to their places.

"Alright listen up!" the Captain shouted as soon as all his men had assembled. "We have just received word from our scouts. They tell us that the darkspawn horde is already showing signs of regrouping. The commanders expect another assault as soon as the following night."

A worried murmur circulated amongst the company. Hawke himself could not help the feeling of dread he felt. The darkspawn were recovering far faster than they had the last time. That implied that their strength was only increasing instead of diminishing. It seemed incredible, but there it was.

"I'm also told that our company will be fighting again." Captain Hamilton continued to speak. A chorus of groans arose from the ranks. "I know, I know, it seems unfair so soon after the last battle, but its increasingly starting to seem like the next fight will need every soldier we have." the Captain said in response. "This will mean that we must get ourselves ready quickly, so do what preparations you need to do as soon as possible" he continued. "Our plan will be a repeat of the one last night, with a few alterations. The most notable one is that the king will be joining us this time, along with the Grey Wardens. So, for the sake of his Majesty, be at your best tonight. Also I'm told that Teyrn Loghain was not entirely satisfied with how much time it took to signal the flanking attack to commence, so in this battle we will be using a signal fire to be given from the tower of Ishal, so we'll know what to look for. In case some you are dumb enough not to know what that is, it's the giant tower on the left side of the chasm, over there. Loghain's own men are securing the tower, so we needn't bother ourselves with it unless we are specifically asked."

"Now, do any of you have any questions?" Hamilton asked next. When no one answered, he clapped his hands: "Alright, let's get to work, there's a lot to do before nightfall. Get to it!"

The company might still have had much to do, but with his helmet replaced it turned out that Hawke was already largely prepared. Still, Hawke checked his equipment, knowing full well that such things could mean the difference between life and death. He also prepared himself for the battle on a mental level, working it through in his heart to accept what was coming. He also checked up on his brother to make sure he was doing all right, but Carver simply waved him off, as nonchalant as ever.

Night came quickly, and Hawke found himself back on the line, waiting for the battle to begin. And even at that early stage he saw things that gave him cause to worry. King Cailan had taken a personal interest in their order of battle, which had resulted in some unexpected changes. Unlike in the last battle, by the king's decision they had foregone the organization of their lines according to weapon types, instead opting for a more mixed arrangement, with various weapons present all over the line. In the king's own words this had been done so that "even those who normally didn't get to take part in the fight would have a chance at glory. To Hawkes instinct that meant that the King had no intention to fight defensively, which in his opinion was bad news in itself. While he would never have voiced such an opinion about his king, it seemed to Hawke that his Majesty's enthusiasm might be getting in the way of good sense. What little Hawke had learned from fighting darkspawn from the prior two battles told him that it was often better to form a solid defense and receive their charge. Charging off was heroic no question, but it could also get you killed real quickly if things went wrong. At least archers and mages were still in the rear ranks, where they belonged, ready to support them. And perhaps Hawke was overreacting. The King had been schooled in war tactics after all, and had both the Grey Wardens and the legendary Loghain Mac Tir advising him. He had to know what he was doing. It would be all right…

Thunder split the skies, and it began to rain, dousing the human line with ice cold water. Moments later the first darkspawn appeared at the tree line, and behind them a sea of burning torches revealed the true bulk of the horde. "Maker's breath, there's even more than last time." Hawke heard someone exclaim. He could only agree. The horde was massive, dwarfing the smaller human force huddled in the shadow of the Tevinter fortress. As they watched one darkspawn, probably the leader of this force, walked to a rocky hill in front of the darkspawn force. For a few tense moments the two armies eyed each other, the darkspawn growling and snarling, the human defenders remaining deathly silent. Then the leading darkspawn waved its blade, sending its minions surging forward in a great wave.

"Archers!" Hawke heard the King shout, and a volley of fire arrows flew through the air, descending on the darkspawn mass, slaughtering many.

And still the darkspawn came on…

"Hounds!" The King shouted next, and a large group of Mabari was unleashed against the enemy. When the dogs reached them, they pulled down and killed several darkspawn, while a number of them also died on enemy blades.

And still the darkspawn came on…

"For Ferelden!" came the war cry from the king, and the Fereldan defenders charged forward with courageous shouts and cheers. "Wait, wait, what, for real?" Hawke had time to think before he was forced to run forward with the rest to avoid being trampled. A few stray darkspawn arrows were fired at them as their lines closed, while burning shots from darkspawn catapults flew overhead. A few heartbeats later the two lines met and exploded into a chaos of melee combat.

Hawke went along with the flow of battle as the chaos of battle raged around, moving from place to place, slaying as many darkspawn as he could, keeping his fellow humans alive as best he was able. Sometimes he fought alone, sometimes paired with another fighter, sometimes as a part of a small group. Sometimes he fought alongside his friends, sometimes with complete strangers who he had never met before this very moment. As he battled he saw other fights unfolding all around him: A darkspawn biting open the throat of a knight, only to be cut down by a second knight almost immediately. He saw a female warrior in leather armor cut down darkspawn after darkspawn with a pair of axes, seemingly unstoppable. He saw Captain Hamilton clean off a darkspawn's head from its shoulders with a single sweep of his greatsword. He saw a group of soldiers push a darkspawn to the ground and stab it to death, their blades rising and falling. He saw a towering Ogre rampage across the battlefield, sending plumes of human defenders to the air with every blow of its fists. And of course he saw the king in his golden armor, accompanied by the Commander of the Grey, the two of them fighting bravely amid the chaos, encouraging the soldiers and cutting down any darkspawn that came near them.

The human forces and the darkspawn were more or less evenly matched. For every human that died a darkspawn was also killed. The only problem was that the darkspawn that were slain were immediately replaced by one or two more from the rear ranks, while the human defenders dwindled with each fallen. Pretty soon many of them were forced to face down two darkspawn at once, then three. It was quickly becoming obvious that the defenders of Ostagar were getting overwhelmed. Whenever he had a moment to do so, he stole glances at the tower of Ishal, hoping to see the signal fire at the top, the signal that would bring reinforcement, and hopefully a victory this day.

The fire that would give them hope.

It was then that he saw what he had been hoping for: A blast of flame at the top of the tower followed a steady flame. "The signal!" Hawke shouted, his mouth wide in a relieved grin. Others had seen it as well, and a great cheer arose from their ranks. Their salvation coming, they threw themselves into the battle with renewed fervor, and the darkspawn paid the price for this enthusiasm.

"Soon." Hawke thought as he fought on. "Soon help will come, and we'll win this thing. We just have to hold on a little longer." He kept thinking that for a time. But the fight just kept on going unrelentingly. One by one the human defenders were falling, sliced apart by cackling darkspawn, the situation becoming more desperate by the minute.

"Where are they? Why won't they come for us?" he thought as he beheaded a darkspawn just as it raised a blade to strike at him. He stole another glance at the tower, seeing the fire still burning at the top. The tower was tall, and even on a night like this the fire would be visible over huge distances. There was no way Loghain's troops could have missed it.

Something was very wrong.

Hawke set aside his confusion for a moment to block a blow meant for another with his shield. The soldier he had rescued turned around and plunged his sword into the neck of the darkspawn. "Where the fuck are our reinforcements!?" The soldier yelled at him over the din of the battle.

"I don't know! They should be here by now!" Hawke yelled back. Then his attention was caught by another shout, panicked and desperate: "The King! The King is dead! We are doomed! Run for your lives!"

Hawke caught a brief glimpse of the Commander of the Grey jumping at an Ogre, plunging his blades into its chest repeatedly. Then Hawke was set upon by three darkspawn at once, forcing him to retreat before them, parrying their attacks furiously. And then Carver was there, pushing his greatsword into the flank of one of the 'spawn, then freeing his blade and cutting open the neck of another one. The third one caught Carver's sword between a pair of sabers, pushing his brother's sword to point towards the ground, snarling all the while. Before it could do anything to his brother, he struck it on the back, killing it. Carver gave him a nod of thanks and charged off again.

"Carver!" Hawke shouted as he went after his brother, pressing through the milling crowds.

"What!? I'm kind of busy at the moment!" Carver shouted back when Hawke reached him.

"Carver, we have to leave!" Hawke told his brother.

"Leave!? What in the flames are you going on about!?" Carver asked, having not apparently understood the situation.

"Look around you, you dung-farmer! We're overrun, we have to get out of here!" Hawke shouted angrily, trying to get through to him.

Just at that moment a large wave of darkspawn entered the fray, and the battle turned to an all out slaughter. Anyone trying to stand their ground was cut to pieces in a matter of moments. Captain Hamilton was set upon by a swarm of the monsters and torn apart to the sound of tearing flesh. The female fighter with a pair of axes he had seen earlier finally went down, felled by a flurry of darkspawn arrows. Even as she collapsed she managed to take down another darkspawn. Similar scenes of carnage were unfolding all around the battlefield, while those that could ran for their lives. What happened next was a blur of fleeing and fighting, individual events blending together. Somehow Iasar and Carver eventually found themselves in the swamps of the Korcari wilds, slogging through knee high mud.

"Where are we?" Hawke heard Carver ask him.

"I don't know." Hawke responded curtly, continuing to walk without slowing.

"Where are we going?" His brother asked next.

"Forward."

"You mean you don't know?"

"I mean we're going forward."

"We're lost, aren't we?"

"We're not lost."

"Then… where are we?"

"I said I don't know."

"Riiight. Well, just in case we **are** lost…"

"We are **not** lost."

"Alright, alright. I was just thinking that maybe we should stop and wait for morning. It will be easier on us in daylight."

"The darkspawn…"

"If they were here I think we'd know. And we really need a chance to catch our breath. At this rate if we face darkspawn we will be too exhausted to do anything."

Hawke paused, considering. "Fine." He grumbled finally. "But we aren't lost."

They found a relatively solid piece of land and sat down. Hawke had to admit that rest was welcome. They had been going on for what was undoubtedly hours, powered by nothing except adrenaline and the need to stay alive. Now that he had been convinced to stop, the tiredness came rushing in, making him want to shut down right then and there.

"So… quite the day, eh?" Carver broke the silence that had descended between them.

A tired "Yeah" was all that Hawke managed to say in response.

"Any idea what exactly happened?" Carver asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. None of this makes any sense to me." Hawke answered. "Loghain was supposed to charge the darkspawn flank, and he had the signal telling him to do so. Maybe it was a little late, but that should not have mattered. If anything that meant that we needed him there all the sooner."

"Suppose the darkspawn did something to his army? Attacked him too so he couldn't come to us?" Carver offered.

"Well… maybe… thought that didn't really feel like a horde that was fighting two battles." Hawke said thoughtfully.

"But what other explanation could there be?" Carver argued. "You… you don't think he fled do you?" He then asked.

"Fled?" Hawke repeated, shocked at the mere possibility of it. "…No." Hawke said finally, shaking his head. "Not **him.** Not the hero of River Dane." For Hawke, as for many Fereldans, Loghain was a hero. To think that he might have quit the field when his country needed him most, leaving his King, the son of his dearest friend, to die was… unthinkable.

"Please, let's just talk about something else, okay? I don't want to think about Ostagar right now." Hawke said.

"Can do brother. Maybe you could tell me about the elf instead." Carver responded.

"What elf?" Hawke asked, unsure what his brother meant.

"The one with blonde hair and tattooed face. I saw you talking with her."

"Ah, her." Hawke said, remembering. "What's there to say?"

"Oh like I totally didn't see you eyeing her." Carver teased. "No need to act all surprised, I know you're into elves. A lot of us are, nothing wrong with that."

"I'll have you know I wasn't *eyeing* her." Hawke protested. "Well, not much." he added moments later with a smile, and they both chuckled.

"Anyway there was nothing more to it than a quick chat. She was Dalish, so even if there had been time for more, it likely would have been unwelcome. Besides she was a Warden too, and Wardens are trouble, way too much for me to get mixed up with such anyway." Iasar then explained.

"Not to worry brother, plenty of other elves in the world, you'll find one for yourself one day, I'm sure of it." Carver reassured him.

"Doesn't appear too likely right now. It seems that we are lost in the middle of a swamp, with no promises that we'll ever get out of here. Do elven women spawn from swamps?" Hawke said playfully.

"Sadly I don't think they do. Wouldn't it be nice if they did, though? It would be a point in favor of swamps at least. Not like they have many others." Carver joked back.

Hawke laughed at his brother's joke, more to relieve the stress he was feeling than anything else. Then he turned serious again. "Get some sleep Carver. We'll start again at first light. Tomorrow we'll have to move quickly. The horde will be moving north soon, and Lothering is right on their path. We have to get there before they do." He said.

Carver nodded his understanding gravely. With nothing more to say the two of them settled down for the night. Just as Hawke was about to fall asleep his brother spoke up one more time: "Wait… you said *lost in the middle of a swamp, with no promises that we'll ever get out*. So are you now admitting that we're actually lost?"

"Shut up, Carver." Hawke grumbled. He did, and they both drifted off to sleep at last.

Hawke woke up next morning to a wet feeling on his left leg. This was because his leg had partially sunk into the mud of the swamp, he discovered. He growled in annoyance and called for his brother for help. They spent the next hour working him loose. When he was finally free they resumed their walk towards Lothering. While the terrain around them was unfamiliar, with daylight around them it was easier for them to get their bearings. Fairly soon they left the swamps behind, emerging into a land of low hills and forests: the Hinterlands. They were making good progress, but even still Hawke was concerned. They had lost some time, and right now every moment was precious. There was nothing standing between their home and the darkspawn army. As soon as these monsters reached Lothering, the village would burn. If their family was not gone by then, they would die. Hawke didn't like the idea of running away, but what else was there to do? In all the Hawke family there were three people who could fight, and if the king's army could not stop the darkspawn, they sure couldn't. He hadn't fancied running away from Ostagar either, but there as well realities of the situation had dictated the course of action. Had he and his brother stayed there, they would both be dead. Right now his only priority was keeping his family safe. If that meant fleeing their home, then so be it.

Those were his thoughts when he heard a rustle from the nearby bushes. Already on edge, he and his brother drew swords at the noise. Three men emerged at once, their arms raised, and walked to the road in fron of them. Two were humans, one an elf. The humans wore the armor of the king's soldiers, the elf had no armor. All three were armed but their weapons were sheathed. Despite the familiar armor worn by two of the strangers, Hawke did not relax. These men might be simple stragglers just as they were, and in that case maybe they could be trusted. On the other hand they might be deserters, and possibly very dangerous because of it. Before Hawke could decide anything, he had to learn the intentions of these strangers.

"Easy there, friends." Said one of them, keeping his hands plainly visible. "We mean no harm. Sorry to frighten you, but we weren't sure who or what you were. Damned spawn all over these woods."

"Who are you?" Hawke demanded.

"My name's Tom, and this is Brent, he doesn't talk much." the man answered. "The jumpy elf is Pick." he added, nodding towards the elf in question, who, true to his description, started slightly at the mention of his name.

"The two of us served in the second company, from Denerim. Yourselves?" Tom asked.

"Sixth. Militia company." Hawke answered.

"Yeah, Hamilton's people. I've heard of him." Tom said. "But we gave you our names. Mind telling us who you are?" he then asked.

"Hawke is my name. Iasar Hawke. This is my brother, Carver." Hawke replied.

"Well met." Tom said. "Say, are you headed for Lothering?" he then asked. "We are going to pass through there on our way to Denerim. I was just thinking that if we are going the same way, perhaps we might join forces. The road is safer to travel when there are five of us."

"We are indeed going to Lothering, but…" Hawke began to say. He would have said more, but Tom cut in before he could:

"Ah yes. That look I recognize. You don't quite trust us. It's understandable, were I in your shoes I would feel the same way. Let me promise you that we are simple survivors from Ostagar trying to get home, I swear it by Andraste. If you prefer we'll be on our way, but regretfully. These roads are not safe with the darkspawn about, and we're likely to need all the help we can get. I think the same is true of you."

"We could use the extra swords, brother. And we need supplies too. We have been running on empty since Ostagar." Carver whispered.

"So long as their weapons are pointing the right way." Hawke whispered back. He weighed the options in his mind. These people seemed decent, and even if the worst came to pass they were more or less evenly matched, since the elf was likely untrained. Finally he decided that the benefits outweighed the risks.

"Very well, we'll travel together, at least for now." He said.

Tom smiled, clearly relieved: "Splendid. You can pick the route. That way you can be sure weren't leading you to an ambush or anything." And so they set off together.

"So, Pick, how did you get a sword? No offense but I thought elves weren't allowed to carry." Hawke asked as they were beginning their journey in an attempt to break the ice.

"I, um, found it?" Pick offered, sounding less than confident in his explanation.

"You were **supposed** to deliver it." Brent commented dryly, speaking up for the first time since they had met him.

"Well, I couldn't find him! I can't deliver something to someone who manages to vanish into thin air." Pick retorted.

"Yeah, well, I'm just pretty sure there was a very confused knight fighting with a table fork in the last battle, just saying." Brent replied.

And so they travelled forth together. As they travelled, they talked and got to know each other, and Hawke quickly came to realize that their companions were decent people, just like he and his brother. Before long Hawke felt ashamed that he had doubted them at all. He offered an apology, which Tom dismissed at once, claiming he would have done the same in Hawke's shoes. "At times like this, any folk you don't know might want to slit your throat. You just can't be too careful." he declared. They made good time, and to everyone's relief they didn't have contact with the darkspawn for a time.

It was the second day after their meeting when all that changed.

The sun was setting and they were getting ready to make camp, when they noticed an orange gloom in the distance, coming from behind a row of hills, coming from the opposite side of the setting sun. Suspecting the worst, they collected their weapons and cautiously crept to the hills to take a look. The far side of the hills descended steeply into a vast open valley, a valley that was currently an ocean of tiny dots of light: Torches. Countless torches, shifting and swaying as the creatures carrying them moved about. All five of them watched with open mouths at the vastness which was the darkspawn horde.

"Look at them all." Carver gasped, horrified at their sheer numbers. "We never made a dent in that thing did we?"

"We have to get to Lothering. We have to get the girls out. We must hurry, these darkspawn are right on our heels." Hawke told Carver.

"We should find another campsite." Tom told all of them. "These fuckers are far too close for comfort and there are often stragglers…"

He was interrupted by a rustling noise coming from around them. In an instant they all had weapons in their hands as they formed themselves into a rough circle, waiting for the attack. Hawke spied movement from nearby bushes, then a shadow grew out of them in a blur of motion, jumping an incredible distance through the air to lunge at him.

The creature was hunchbacked; it had a bald head like that of a bat or a dog, with a mouth full of sharp fangs. The creature had rusty blades glistening with venom attached to both of its long, spindly arms. It shrieked as it dove through the air toward him, propelled by its powerful hind legs. The monster distantly reminded Hawke of what werewolves were described to look like, although this was no werewolf.

Acting on instinct, Hawke crouched, slicing open the belly of the darkspawn as it sailed overhead, using his shield to protect himself from the blood that spattered on him. When the creature landed it tumbled onto its back from the momentum of its charge, and with a final long hiss, died. Momentarily free of enemies, Iasar took a glance around himself to see how the situation had developed. He saw Tom and Brent working together put down another of the creatures. Of Pick his quick look around found no sign. He did see his brother though, being pressed hard by one more of the creatures. These darkspawn were lightning fast, and the heavy two handed sword his brother was ill suited to blocking such quick attacks, so Carver was struggling to keep himself alive.

Hawke moved in to help his brother, plunging his sword into the darkspawn's flank, then pulling his blade free and bringing his sword crashing down on its back, killing it as well. Carver sunk the tip of his sword into the creature for good measure.

It was then that Hawke heard a terrified scream coming from behind him. He turned to see Pick on his back, yet another darkspawn on top of him, pumping its blades into his chest again and again, red blood fountaining. Hawke roared and charged. The monster turned towards the noise, saw him coming and tried to slice at him, but Hawke was ready. The darkspawn got one of its hands severed at the wrist, followed shortly by another, then its head. By the time Hawke had finished his opponent, Tom and Brent were also done with theirs. The fight was over, having lasted under one minute.

"Shrieks…" Hawke heard Brent breathe as the soldier took out a piece of cloth to clean his sword. They gathered around the body of Pick. His chest was a bloody mess and his eyes stared to the sky without seeing.

"Poor sod…" Tom said, shaking his head sadly.

"Should we… bury him or something?" Carver asked.

"There is no time." Hawke said sternly. "I wish we could, but we can't."

He turned to Tom and Brent: "Listen, I appreciate the need for rest, but we have family in Lothering. We have to get them out of the way of these darkspawn. My brother and I are going to press through the night to make sure we get to the village first."

"Of course. We are with you." Tom said with a nod.

"I'm getting bloody tired of running away brother, and people around us dying." Carver complained to him as they were collecting their things before setting out again. "It just seems that no matter how far we run, they follow us, and more of us die. We can't beat these monsters and we can't get away from them. We're dying. We're all… bloody dying. It has to stop. It has to." Carver continued, despair clear in his voice.

"Don't lose hope." Hawke said, laying a reassuring hand n his brother's shoulder. "We will find some way to survive this."

"We must." Hawke added to himself when the rest had gone ahead, before hurrying after the others, setting off on the final race to Lothering.


End file.
